


sunrise sunrise (but the clock held 9:15 for hours)

by packrat



Series: ke one parters [7]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Obsession, Season 2, desperate!villanelle, i dont know how to tag this so ill come back to this as soon as i figure it out, i need to study but i wrote this, inspired by a textpost i saw, kinda abstract, soft!villanelle, the morning of her mental breakdown, villanelle character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/packrat/pseuds/packrat
Summary: another sleepless night means another million thoughtsVillanelle on the morning in Amsterdam when she expects Eve to follow her and she can‘t cope with having emotions she can‘t really put into words.She wants so much but all she wants is Eve.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Villaneve - Relationship
Series: ke one parters [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712638
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	sunrise sunrise (but the clock held 9:15 for hours)

When she lays awake in the early hours of the morning, not understanding why her body isn’t allowing her to sleep and instead is wide awake and her mind is running in circles, she often finds herself wishing to be nothing more than a concept. To not be thinking for a moment and get to know what it means to have a “peaceful mind”. To just be perceived. To exist in nothingness instead of the nothingness existing within her.

Just like she can’t quite get a grasp on what these emotions are that prohibit her from getting her treasured beauty sleep - emotions that are accompanied by a racing heart and racing thoughts that are always coming back to Eve, Eve, Eve - all she wants is to be understood as something that evokes an emotion that is not _nothing_ and _emptiness_ and sheer _boredom_. 

She wants to be taken in for a first time and not be able to be put into words but she wants to be felt nonetheless. Like she isn’t understanding herself lately. Like yesterday, when Konstantin made her go to that museum in Amsterdam and she saw that one painting that wasn’t just colors on canvas. 

It made her think of Eve.

She wants to understand herself like she understands French. And like she thinks she understands Eve.

She wants to be moments in time suspended in eternity. Stopped to be observed from every angle possible. To be torn apart and put together again. A puzzle where she has the chance to find the missing pieces and the opportunity to understand. To control.

She wants to be that one hour in the morning when the lights are kind of blue and the birds arent awake yet. She wants to be the soft pink that indicates the sun is setting, blurring into lavender hues and the harsh gold that drowns the world every morning. She wants to be the sun filtering through sheer curtains on a summer day. And the soft moonlight shining through the blinds at night, when she comes back from another job done and stays in yet another hotel in yet another foreign country. She wants to be all of it at once.

She wants to be a light breeze coming through opened windows in the summer on the beach and the sea salt smell of the air.

She wants to be the thrill of getting assigned a new job. 

She wants to be Paris on Valentine’s Day and Rome in summer and the soft glow of fairy lights above beds in college dorms. 

She wants to exist as nothing but her accent weighing heavy on the English language and the warmth inside her coat on a winter day in Russia. 

And she wants to be the feeling of when you’re about to go to bed and you’re freshly showered and just exchanged the bed sheets.

She wants to be the memory of childhood or adolescence that’s evoked by listening to a certain song. She wants the carefreeness and innocence of a newborn child.

~~She wants to be free of trauma and sleep peacefully. She wants to stop waking up from nightmares in the middle of the night with no one besides her to make her feel safe. She wants to be able to be Oksana without repercussions and not have to be Villanelle all the time. Not to be on guard all the time. To be the innocent young woman trapped inside of her.~~

She wants to be the concept of language and to finally be able to put herself into words. She wants to have the vocabulary to explain herself so accurately she will scare everyone around her but most importantly herself. 

She imagines to be the air catching in her throat when she sees a fashion piece she knows will stun every woman in a 100 mile radius. She wants to be the moment she knows she‘s found someone to have sex with tonight.

She wants to be the moment _they_ met for the first time. In that hospital bathroom on the first floor. She wants to be _that moment_ forever. Shitty lighting, shitty undercover uniform and everything else. The first time she heard Eve’s voice asking her if she is okay while she was just overwhelmed by Eve’s presence alone. And maybe also her hair.

She wants to be that. 

She wants to be the spring in Eve’s curls and the feeling of hands entangling in hair that make her feel like she can let her guard down for a moment.

She wants to be the hot curling steam rising from the freshly brewed green tea in Eve’s favorite stained white mug. She wants to be the smell of coffee that lingers in the MI6 office and she wants to be consumed by Eve. She wants to be Eve’s favorite book and Eve’s favorite quote and Eve’s favorite memory.

She wants to be everything Eve craves.

She wants to be everything Eve loves. 

She wants to be Eve’s love. 

She wants to be on the receiving end of Eve’s love instead of the end that’s pure fury and hate and disgust and distaste. 

She wants to be everything Eve thinks and talks about.

She wants coming home after finished jobs and cooked dinners that are not the Moustache’s admittedly awful Shepherd’s Pie. She wants what Eve is willing to give her. She wants late running movie nights and cuddling up under blankets or in Eve’s body heat and heads leaning on shoulders or laying in laps and hands that absentmindedly card through hair, lightly scratching scalps every now and then. She wants shivers down her spine. And touching. And touching and kissing. And kissing and touching. And marking of bodies like she’s the first person to explore an unknown world with the skin as her map and her compass. And Eve’s pleasure as her guiding star. She wants to get lost in overindulgence and not get told off for it. For once, she wants to be the feast and someone else the famine. Wants someone else to consume her. 

She knows that she wouldn’t be able to do normal for long, but by God does she crave it like nothing else entirely.

(For now all she can do is wait for Eve to follow her postcard to Amsterdam because she desperately needs to see the agent again. She’s sure that Eve and her are the same, the same side of the same coin but Eve is out of her control so she hopes that Eve thinks about her as much as she‘s thinking about Eve and she _needs_ to see it to believe it. For now though, she is waiting. Waiting and wishing to be nothing more than that one hour in the morning where everything is kinda blue and the birds aren’t awake yet. Entirely alone.)


End file.
